


Trading Laundry

by HAL1377



Category: Free!
Genre: Confessions, Fluff, Haru thinks too much, Idiots in Love, M/M, Post-Canon, The final chapter earns the M rating - because why not go out with a bang?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-08 23:45:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7778314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HAL1377/pseuds/HAL1377
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A pair of sweatpants, intentional trespassing, and touches that elicit his gentle response all converge in repercussions that somehow prompt Haru to a foregone admission. It comes out in all of the most subtle ways but tends to evade the shared understanding he hopes for. With his final high school relay a fresh memory, Haru’s plans for what is to come seem more certain and perhaps more comforting. Yet, as much as he has decided on a future, questions remain tied up in his present. He cannot leave them alone, nor will they ever neglect him.</p><p>Alternatively: Rin plots a romantic pool break in, Rei is smart but Nagisa is smarter, Makoto frets, Haru thinks someone stole his shampoo, and Sousuke goes to bed early.</p><p>Occurs directly after the final episode of Free! S2</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sweatpants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This quick fic began in response to the prompts from [ RinHaru Week](http://www.rinharuweek.tumblr.com) and has grown from there. The beginning was originally posted on tumblr so you may have already seen part of this.  
> Thank you for reading!

Haru’s calves still retain some of that damp moisture from his swim and subsequent shower when he opens the locker door. Drops cling in erratic lines, trickling in a lethargic downward progression that hooks into the fabric of his sweatpants as he works to tug them up. The material gathers around the band at his ankles, appearing mere inches too long in an understated hint that they do not belong. That they were originally purchased by another. By someone barely taller. And perhaps with a more astute eye for cut and fashion than the printed jellyfish on his t-shirt would indicate. 

A heavy breath leaks from his throat as Haru’s stare shifts downward, to a point somewhere beyond the tiles at his toes. The hand at his side slowly clenches and becomes slack as he takes the moment for himself. Pulls inward. And lets go. 

He can feel the build, a surging anxiety that tends to heave him under at the most inconvenient of times. It is not something he wishes to hold, the burden of a future he has never been able to grasp. But Haru knows it is coming. The wave building and rolling closer with each practice that passes, each morning in the tub, and each proffered race.

Then a voice bursts. Calling his name through the low din of a near empty room. It is loud though not in a way which reveals any urgency. What it holds is a natural volume cultivated from a persona that seems wholly too great for his body to contain. Even so, it is someone who remembers what it was like to be silenced. Perhaps the only other who could relate in all the most subtle and intimate ways that matter. Except Rin does not know it. Does not see he is enough to cut through the apprehension; always has been. 

Haru cannot remember closing his eyes yet finds himself opening them upon a rush of vibrant red hair. He promptly adjusts to peer down, to ignore because it is easier than facing those added emotions Rin brings to mingle with everything else. But his gaze relaxes upon those sweatpants again and it is all too apparent just how much Rin has worked his way into Haru’s core, blending with the water and coloring it with his inferno.

“Haru?” Rin’s voice is unexpectedly soft when it comes again and without looking Haru can sense the soft scuff of fingertips on the back of his hand. There is so much uncertainty in the motion, scarcely a whisper along skin. It is an attempt at some different sort of intimacy than the casual arm around his shoulder and Haru finds himself appreciating it despite his reluctance to accept any touch from others. 

Still he has always felt that link even when Rin had been more distant. As though they had somehow spooled strands of themselves around one another, linking at every edge and wrapping a subtle cocoon in the space between. Bolstered by competition and convergent passions, Haru had been surprised to realize that he was not at all unhappy understanding just how much they had become intertwined.

“I’m ok,” he says, because right now it is the truth. Because right now he has help being held together. Because at this definite moment he needs it. Because there is still a later when it will all get worse. And it will all end better. A shared chance at life and a dream after high school has forever been promised by the one now observing him with such uncertain, such obscured affection. 

Rin appears tentative, as though unprepared to believe Haru's words. So Haru tries again, seeking to rouse his friend back to whatever Rin's original intentions had been. Though Haru can guess. 

“You’re still in your swimsuit. Shouldn’t you come pester me after you’ve taken care of yourself?”

A final trace of hesitation latches into Rin’s face before he speaks again. “Yeah, well…I just thought…” He trails off, a strange singularity for him.

“Rin,” Haru speaks, layering that word with all the exasperation Rin is used to taking from him. “I’ve still got my suit on.”

“Oh. Right. Under the pants. Of course.”

Haru waits but Rin is still missing the crucial piece Haru had trusted he would collect on his own. “Let’s go,” he says, urging more apparent with the desire to transfer a concealed significance. Eventually Rin will realize too.

“Swim? You're ready to go again?”

“Yes.” Because that is always what Haru wants and Rin is consistently the same. Striped legskins and violet jammers are both still in place, after all. Waiting.

Rin grins, a laugh flooding from a smile that is nothing but dazzling teeth and elation. Haru is certain this had been Rin's reason for chasing him down. Though he may be grappling with the chance to wish for something more. _More than the vacant water? Not possible._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always welcome, find me here or on [tumblr](http://www.hal1377.tumblr.com).  
> Prompt for ch.1 was "hardships and support."


	2. An Enduring Promise

It is only after a lengthy train ride that Haru realizes where Rin is taking him. They do not return to the natatorium where their race just concluded, Rin already having dismissed his team and seeming to possess other intentions for their evening. Instead they sit in adjacent seats, the compartment nearly vacant at the late hour, while the track resounds in uniform thumps below. Some manner of curiosity keeps Haru awake but as time ticks onward a head comes to slump along his shoulder. Flaming hairs caress Haru’s neck, attaching themselves to any vestiges of remaining water. Something about that connection cultivates in Haru an urge to reach out, to stroke that tired head just to prove it is there. That he is near. But both of Haru’s hands stay in his pockets even as watchful eyes linger.

Rin’s dozing form does not rouse in time to direct Haru toward the regular stop for Samezuka. The school’s facilities have typically seemed to be Rin’s fallback when he feels the need to initiate a race. It is not long after that Rin does wake, brisk in adjusting to sit further from Haru. A thin strip of bench becomes visible between them for an instant before Rin is rushing Haru to the platform.

“We’re going to miss it!”

“We’d be fine if you hadn’t fallen asleep.” But Haru picks up his pace anyway, just enough to make it through the closing doors.

Only once Rin has maneuvered him through the sparse town, breaking into the back of an objectively dull building, and lead him through the hallway does Haru begin to apprehend the gesture. It takes little thought before Haru dives into a relaxed front crawl in the pool of Rin’s old Sano Swim Club. Rin kneels at the edge, dragging off his sneakers when Haru resurfaces to lean on the wall, staring up.

“Too slow,” he mumbles.

Rin looks as though he is about to chuck the shoe in his hand toward Haru’s head but adjusts to drop it toward the floor. “Yeah, probably,” he says. When Haru raises a questioning eyebrow he gains an agitated “What!?” from Rin.

“Just weird, that’s all.”

Haru assumes Rin must think he had been talking about the general situation, and not Rin’s oddly subdued response, when the next retort comes. “It’s not like I’m the one always jumping into fish tanks or fountains, compared to that this should be just fine for you. Besides, you are way weirder.”

Haru waits until it seems Rin is not about to offer anything more. Then he asks, “Why here?”

“I’ll tell you if you beat me,” Rin says, the challenge coming just as he launches off the block. 

Even with that advantage Haru wins the first round. Yet he finds himself bending to Rin’s insistence for “Best two out of three!” Rin takes the next set, grin broad when his palm slaps the wall for the final time. “Yes!”

“So you’re really going to bring me all the way out here and not bother to say why?” Haru cannot quite bring himself to feel annoyed but is close. His shoulders rise and drop more heavily than usual, body beginning to protest the totality of the day’s exertion. Still his face is unwavering, firm in its anticipation.

“I thought it was kind of obvious, to be honest. But I also really did want another race.” When Haru does not say anything, Rin continues, “Well it’s Sano,” as though that explains everything. Another lull follows before, “I mean it’s not as great as what I showed you in Australia but I thought you might still appreciate it. This is sort of where it all started for me.”

And with that he has laid himself bare, effectively having offered to Haru each portion of his life, parceled out in segments until he had nothing left to give, not even knowing it had been provided. Haru fears for a fraction that he may be falling behind but comprehends there is still one last trace he needs soothed. So he asks, “What about later? After the Olympics or in case … in case it does not work out.” 

Rin considers it, looking to the dark ceiling for answers. “I keep my grades up, I’ve got options. There are so many more adventures I could go on. And that’s the fun part I guess, choosing what comes next. A professor, maybe English, so I could teach people something useful that could lead them to far off countries and new sites. A police officer to protect others, ensure they have the chance to get where they’re going.” He laughs a bit at himself before adding the last part. “You know, something cool, like part of the SWAT team. But … I’d still swim.”

That resilience was all Haru wanted, the knowledge of more. That the water will always be where it is, ready with its perpetual embrace. That he would be too.

Rin is still talking when Haru tunes back in. “Though I heard Nagisa scored better than you on that last history test. Maybe you should …” Then he stops sharply, as though panicked his taunts have gone too far, straying to a territory with the potential to truly affect Haru. 

But Haru has decided, sees that with the friends he has there is more in reach. “It’s fine, I’ve just been thinking.”

“For someone who doesn’t like to think ahead, it seems you’ve moved pretty far since Australia. I’m glad, even if it leaves me feeling a little behind again. Guess I’ll have to catch up.”

He nods to Rin, wishing to express what he has yet to say.

“Haru,” Rin’s voice is abruptly quiet, void of all the vigor and excess emotion he had held in his descriptions of the future. It is as though he lost all that energy, come prematurely to the end, staggered by some new question or realization. “You … you know I can’t read your mind. I’m not,” he pauses again and the words that eventually follow are almost mournful in his voice. It is not a tone Haru ever wants to hear again. “I’m not Makoto.”

But Haru is not certain why this seems to leave such an impact for Rin. Cannot grasp an explanation for Rin’s eyes listing to the side or for his movements to become stiff and stilted. As though the words have left a burden for him, a hurt. “Of course you’re not Makoto.” Haru feels peeved when he says it. Because there was never an opportunity for Rin to be like anyone else, cannot be compared to friends, or acquaintances, or family, or celebrities, or strangers on the street. He has always built his own place. Rushed his way into the world as some great and assuredly idiotic watery tempest. He should know; it is something Rin has always invited Haru to share, that piece which is all his own. How can Rin not understand?

Yet comprehension still seems lost to him when Rin works to continue, exerting some acute strain Haru is unable to identify. “Yeah, I know. That’s what I just said. All I mean is, well, it’s work. With you. I’ve always had to really make an effort. And don’t get me wrong, I _love_ it, I’m going to keep doing it whether you want it or not. Even when most times you don’t.” 

The pace of his words grows hasty but all Haru hears is the word _love_. Repeating over and over and over and again and again until there is nothing but that singular splintering accidental admission rushing his thoughts. _Surely he did not intend that. He only … he only … its not … Just the work. It’s just the work, it’s just the drive, it’s only swimming. And when has it ever been anything but?_

Rin is looking at Haru again, one of those uncomfortable smiles in place, displaying an elusive facet of himself that Haru notices he has still not been able to be completely rid of. He continues without pause. There had been no moment of hope for him and Rin failed to glean the chance in Haru’s features.

“Even though there are days or months when you feel adrift, it’s, well … I’ve been there too. But now I’m sort of here.” A hand rubs at the back of his neck as Rin starts to loose track again. The stumbling always comes at this point, when he is ready to bail from going much deeper. Haru wishes he would not. Needs to hear the rest.

Maybe Rin knows this. He possesses that perpetual recognition of when to push. For this time he says, “And well, I guess you already know that I’ve _always_ admired you. Just I hope you remember. Because if you don’t I’ll just have to keep reminding you. Whether swimming is our endgame or not. But I hope it is and I plan to keep working at that too.” _Always. It has always been more._

“Makoto can’t read my mind.”

“Out of everything I just said that’s the only thing you got from it!?” But there is no bite to his words, barely the merest hint of irritation. As though he would expect little else. Such understated sentimentalities touch Haru in a way he can hardly confess to himself. So he adjusts, preparing to send their conversation back to a territory he knows well. Until a time when they both are ready to turn it to something more.

Just to annoy him Haru smirks, knowing he will have to give more later but being content for now. Just understanding. Just being close. Just watching the future and how it is as bright as the stunning being in the lane alongside his. “He gets things wrong too sometimes.”

Rin grumbles something but Haru is no longer able to pay attention, too overcome with a strange clench in his chest that is somehow not at all unpleasant. He turns his head away to smile, a subtle quirk of his lips that registers it all.

Because Haru knows he can be difficult to understand, that Rin has had to try harder than anyone he has ever known to do so. But that he has continually done it anyway, forever pressing and pulling to meet Haru at every point. Still Haru thinks that Rin need not have done it. That Rin has always had an innate perception of him even if Rin does not realize it himself. He recognizes when to share that ambition and when to drive them over the edge. There exists that sense of him knowing what is needed without realizing it. 

Perhaps Haru should be glad then that Rin has freely showed so much of himself. He remembers how lost he was to help Rin last year. When he peered into those shuttered red eyes to witness the pain and loss but without the tools ready-made to help. 

Haru’s ruminating is disrupted when the overhead fluorescent bulbs whirr to brighten the water below. Stiff footsteps barrel forward as Rin’s hissed “Shit!” reaches his ears. A hand latches onto his forearm, urgent and tense while somewhere beyond gruff voices have begun shouting. But Rin’s response is not quite swift enough to save them. They barely make it to the edge before polished boots have stepped into Haru’s line of sight. Words shot from above are rough, demanding they vacate the pool and identify themselves. Rin’s hand goes slack, anxiety palpable in the bubbles he produces through his scramble from the water. 

“You too,” the man above Haru speaks, his manner course, an intention to intimidate. “Get up.” Haru simply looks at him, fully intending to do nothing of the sort. But a foot away Rin is kneeling alone, face shadowed, and apprehension rampant. He really does not know how to stay calm. So troublesome. But eternally worth it.

When Haru clambers from the pool, he whispers in Rin’s ear before turning back to the men. “Promise I’ll beat you next time.”

“Sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also on [tumblr](http://www.hal1377.tumblr.com).  
> Prompt for ch.2 was "promises"


	3. I Mean It

On the floor beside him, Rin’s foot beats out a rapid staccato. Annoyance rises with each pulse and Haru cannot quite tell where to direct his irritation. It should be obvious; the body beside him is an easy, usual target. But the occasional officer passing beyond seems more to blame. 

Haru presses his back into the cool of the wall, attempting to bring his focus away from their current situation and towards even the slightest distraction. He concentrates on the way his shirt sticks to the mingled sweat and water left in residual streaks atop his skin, how the bench bends almost imperceptibly when he moves his weight, each dried hair that flicks the base of his neck, the rustling swish where his sweatpants overlap with Rin’s, and that mild tapping that will not cease. A groan nearly makes itself heard for even with all his efforts focused away from the body sitting centimeters too near his mind finds its way back. It always has.

Yet frustration has never been the only emotion Rin is able to bring out. There is another sentiment present, the need to comfort the nerves now overflowing his friend. It is almost too simple, a clear correct choice. Still Haru tells himself it is too difficult to know if this is a true desire or if he is really just peeved. Sure, he is angry with Rin for making it too complicated and certainly not at himself for living years in this muddled state. Because his life is fine as it is, simple and lacking any complexity that could bring trouble. 

He really does snort at that for if it had been true he would not be sitting in holding with his thigh sweeping against the one person who brings such confusion. A small voice tells him he does know what to do, that his feelings, while more scrambled at day one, have grown to something unmistakable. Haru wishes that voice did not sound so much like Makoto for he knows they must hold the weight of reality. Reason sneaks in next, he can attribute that part to Rei, a reminder that love is illogical in all its components. He quashes them all down before Nagisa too can make an appearance in his headspace. But Sousuke takes his turn to barrel forward as his mind shuts, aggressive in his statement not to damage Rin. 

Haru thinks that, despite his many proclamations to the contrary, he may have been swimming for Rin since that first relay. That Rin certainly had declared to be doing the same for him after his transfer to Iwatobi Elementary. He shakes his head and notices the patter has stopped, its rhythm lost. Rin is observing him with eyes that have never been any sort of subtle. There is concern there and _God his face is close. Too close. Never close enough._

Haru swallows, turns away. He knows he has loved him since the day at the railroad crossing. How dumb.

Outside of his head, Rin makes a sound, an almost silent of huff of anxious impatience.

“What?” Haru asks, jumping to the defensive like filling a role.

“Nothing, you just seemed, I dunno, off?”

“Well you did get us stuck here,” really Haru does not care yet he cannot help but want to draw a squawk of offense from Rin.

It comes easily but what follows is less pleasant even if it is Haru’s fault. “I was just trying to—ah never mind, you weren’t even listening before anyway. Why do I bother with you?”

So Haru switches the topic, even if he figures it will lend him about the same response. “You know, I don’t think they’d let a criminal become a police officer and certainly not a highly trained SWAT professional.”

It takes a moment before Rin notices what Haru is asserting, forever prodding him into annoyance. “Good thing that was only one of my many backup plans then. Told you, there’s plenty of options.”

“You think so far ahead and didn’t even stop to consider a place like that would have a security system.” Honestly, Haru cannot fully understand why he keeps poking. It may be more to relieve himself of tension than anything else and Rin has always been a good outlet. Even if it does leave him feeling a bit guilty.

“Well _you_ could have said something!” Rin sighs, not seeming to want to take the bait any more. “It won’t be a big deal, once they come back and let us have our phone calls I’ll get in touch with my old coach. He’ll sort it out.”

Haru gives him a questioning look and Rin takes off again.

“You guys keep in touch with Sasabe so of course I can do the same for my old mentors.”

“Yeah, because you’ve historically done a real good job keeping in touch with everyone.” Maybe it was not the most direct way of telling Rin he had missed him but Haru still remembers that wound well enough that it stings to recall. Shifting that pain back onto Rin might only give hints but right now Haru is thrown off enough to leave his normally direct persona behind.

“Hey!” And there it is, that same hurt, scraped into every crinkle of his riled forehead. “Look, I know you think that stunt we pulled last year fixed everything and I know now you’ve been having a tough time too but could you just drop it. There’s still plenty you don’t understand. You’re not the only one who keeps everything locked away. And just—fuck Haru. You don’t get it.” He stands to stride quick ovals around their small room before finishing, “I told you I’m trying. I told you I won’t stop. I meant it. I _mean_ it.”

And Haru comprehends that, is grateful Rin brought him to the pool, to break in, as a way to get his mind off a daunting future. It could have worked had Haru not prompted the conversation back there, had not asked after the pieces which berate his mind. But he realized that he needed more answers. He is appreciative all the same. “Rin, sit back down.” Haru waits for the glare to subside and for Rin to cross that meter of space back to him. They settle against each other once more even if their shoulders remain in stiff, jagged angles. “I knew why you brought me there and I was glad of the distraction.”

“Am I really that obvious? Sorry you must have hated that. But I did mean what I said before too. I did want to show you. Hell, I just want to show you everything I can. To share it all, you know?”

“I know, and I didn’t hate it.” _And I could never hate you for any of it. After all, I love you._

_I love you, I love you, I love you, and I am not sure how to tell you._

They trickle into silence again, their sides softening against one another in a unique kind of security for them. It is perhaps another half hour before their quiet is being intruded upon, the chance to clean their mess being offered. Haru thinks he might be prepared to take it this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ch. 3 prompt: Improvement, because maybe they are getting somewhere?  
> Is it clear yet that I really don't know how to write love stories? Still, I am so thankful for all the people that have perused this since its initial posting. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> And as always, find me here or on [tumblr](http://www.hal1377.tumblr.com).  
> 


	4. Shared Blankets

Rin takes their bags from the trunk, waving a goodbye toward his old coach as Haru begins the prolonged trek up the hill. There is the sound of a car pulling away, the only disruption in the empty night breeze before Rin is back at his side once more. He trails a step behind, shuffling through his backpack without much thought. 

“It really was nice of him to grab our stuff from the lockers too,” Rin says a slight upturn to his mouth when he speaks. “And, well, everything else.”

“Yeah,” Haru’s reply is low, hardly making any impact in his drowsy state. It might not be all that unusual; Haru tends to leave as little trace as possible. But from that single word Rin seems to glean more.

“Sorry about all this,” he says, gesturing a hand at nothing specific. “I really didn’t mean for it to turn out quite so …”

“Bizarre?”

“And here I thought you were going to say annoying.”

Haru had thought about it, because really none of what had happened over the past eight hours had truly been any less than entertaining. Still he was not about to allow Rin that flash of knowledge. That he had enjoyed the company. Unintended police accompaniment or no.

It takes a moment for Haru to realize he had locked his door and an extra minute after that for Rin the find the key forgotten in a side pocket of Haru’s duffel. There is an instant in which Haru allows himself to stare, to watch while Rin is unaware, head turned downward with the search. Above them the moon is a mere smudge behind mottled gray clouds yet every whisper of its light seems attracted to the planes of Rin’s face. Haru cannot blame it. 

There is a slight spark burned into the tops of Rin’s cheeks, a glimmer catching his eye in this most mundane task, and somehow even his ears seem interesting to Haru. Every part of Rin emerges as worthy of examination. He wants to run his thumb up the line of his jaw, to lean closer, feel the haze of Rin’s body heat, fit his head into the crook of that shoulder. To wait for an instant while Rin shivers, lips pressing close enough to blow away those stray hairs at the base of his neck with only a breath. That would be the place to set the kiss, a smooth encounter of mouth and skin at the junction below Rin’s earlobe. An indirect yet intimate point. Less blunt than the contact of mouths but decisive enough to tear Rin off guard, yielding the chance to decide if he would compensate with more. 

Still Haru cannot deny the satisfaction that would come from stealing Rin’s words away with the most forthright connection. He could shut up Rin’s obtrusive provocations and challenges with the most honest of kisses. One set of lips slotting against another. And perhaps, just perhaps, a scant bit more. 

But Rin is not speaking now; in fact his scowl holds little of the reactions Haru is used to viewing flit in and out of focus. He waits with the key in a suspended palm, observing Haru as though attempting to tap into whatever thoughts are sprinting circles through his mind. 

Haru quashes them down with an accumulated difficulty and takes the key more sharply than is needed. He hides himself in the shadows of his house, unsure if he wishes to disappear or be seen for every desire he holds close.

They pass through the threshold and Rin is already kicking off his sneakers and moving into the hallway beyond. A trail of clothing, towels, goggles, swim caps, and miscellaneous equipment is dumped in his wake, spilling from their bags as Rin searches.

“We really should rinse out the suits, they’ve been sitting for too long and I don’t feel like buying another one just yet. I mean I was kind of getting fond of—,” he stops then, holding up a dry pair of Haru’s jammers. “Hey! You already got some new ones! That’s great,” his smile is so brilliant Haru cannot help but glance to the side, wondering if he will ever get over that instinctual reaction. 

“Mmm,” he slurs to the floor even as a stutter wraps through his chest.

“I knew you’d want to keep going, told you we were destined for the same world!” And Rin gesticulates with powerful excitement wracking his body, reminiscent of his childhood self. The spandex is waved through the air even as Haru senses his own traitorous smile breaking forth.

But how did Rin know? Sure Haru has always been able to tell the difference, has spent years trying to explain how _this suit fits better_ , or _the length is different_ , even _there’s an adjusted fabric content_. It is one of those things people never seemed to stop rolling their eyes at him for. Never ceased in their insistence that all his jammers look the same. He knows the distinction, even when his friends let it wash. It was not important to them in the same way it is for him.

Haru had bought it the day they returned from Australia, dropping into an expansive Tokyo store before the final races. A solemn promise to himself. One he intended to share with Rin in the years to come.

He cannot think of how to express this, so he merely nods but Rin seems to take it for what it is. Convincing himself of the measure of Haru’s dedication.

“I’m glad,” Rin says, turning to head for the bathroom and leaving Haru standing in a muddle of his own emotion.

He waits a little too long, undecided on so many fronts. Eventually his feet recall how to direct his movements, taking him to his bedroom in search of pajamas. Maybe sleep has made him more delirious, more prone to all these strangely exuberant reactions. A calm night is all he needs to right things once more.

Rin is sitting under the kotatsu when Haru returns, arms crossed in an improvised pillow atop the table while his head rests and his breaths come in deep pulls. Haru can tell he is nearly asleep, eyes closed and mind lost to the rest of the world. 

“Hey, you’re not planning on sleeping there are you?” Haru nudges his toe against Rin’s side, waiting for him to pay attention. One bleary eye peers at him from under mussed bundles of hair before Haru speaks again. “I’ll get out the spare futon,” he adds but still Rin just watches, not saying anything. “Or I _suppose_ you could have the bed.” He wonders if that had been what Rin was waiting on, some kind of privileged treatment that he knew could be wheedled out of Haru with trifling effort. But apparently it is not the case.

“Naw,” he waves Haru off with a hand, “You go take your bed, I’m just going to sleep here.” Then he mumbles, “Too tired,” around a yawn.

“You’re being stupid,” Haru tells him, because it is the truth. 

“Yeah, you remind me of that pretty often.”

“Fine.” Haru makes to stomp out but pauses, watching as Rin flops backwards onto the floor. He lays on his back with arms outstretched and there is something in that image that leads Haru to linger, to switch his course of action. 

Muted footsteps guide Haru to his room where he stops again, waiting as though to see if Rin would change his mind. If he would follow. No additional sound comes from the front of the house and Haru decides that this time it would be alright to take the lead. He jerks the covers from his bed, rounding up pillows before returning. In Haru’s absence Rin has shed his jacket, leaving his upper body bare. He is using it as a sort of makeshift blanket and somehow the visible skin of his neck and shoulders irritates Haru. He tells himself it should not matter, that he has seen Rin in various states of undress his entire life. The pool, locker room, communal showers, all places one cannot avoid knowing more about his teammates than he should. Yet there is something in playing witness to this more intimate scene that leaves Haru’s skin feeling too tight, too hot, to prickly, too … too much. 

The bundle of bedding drops from Haru’s arms and onto Rin where it rouses him enough to elicit a grumble. But the tone is soft and, Haru wants to think, appreciative. He settles down on the floor alongside him, a hefty amount of space left in between.

“Give me a pillow.”

“No,” the groggy voice is muffled, coming from the spot where Rin’s face remains hidden by blankets. “You’re the one that tossed them here. All mine now.”

Haru reaches across to grab at Rin’s side and when he spins him around Rin comes tumbling forward with a bright-eyed smirk and a mass of cozy layers.

“I suppose you can have this one,” Rin says, stuffing a pillow into the space between Haru’s head and the floor. “It has those creepy sea creatures on it you love so much.”

“There was an extra futon, you know. You don’t have to be like this.”

“Says the guy who didn’t bother to sleep in his own bed.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Then we’re a good match.” Rin might be too sleepy to have processed what he just said but Haru is suddenly very awake. _God why does Rin keep doing this to him?_

“I hate you.”

“Mmm, you don’t,” Rin grumbles into his pillow. He is right; Haru never could convince himself to dislike Rin as much as he had tried. “Thanks though, for letting me stay.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

Haru knows it is unusual for them to be so near and can feel his eyes open a tad wider while dark bangs trickle across his forehead. He permits his contentment to blink through his pupils, face more readable than it hardly ever is. Yet sharing that twinkle of delight seems crucial, so he allows it.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Rin breaths, it comes as a hushed sigh that looses itself quickly to the floor. But Haru is certain he said it. Wishes Rin could be as straightforward with this as he is in so much else. Somehow the fact the sentiment emerged at all is enough for now.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Rin, you definitely just said something.” It is teasing and probably futile but he continues his prodding anyway. Too satisfied to stop.

“No I didn’t. And if you don’t go to sleep I’m kicking you out of my bed.”

“This isn’t a bed, it’s the floor. Plus it’s _my_ house.”

Rin knocks his knee into Haru’s thigh, as if to demonstrate his point before rolling over and purposefully taking the rest of the quilts with him. Haru wonders if he might have been wrong when the chilly air hits, if he really does hate Rin. But Haru still grins into his pillow, twisting into the remaining covers and consequently scooching closer to Rin’s naked back. His toes press into Rin’s calves and a tired voice responds in a quiet murmur, “Cold.”

“Then you should share the layers. I brought plenty.”

“I always share with you,” he says but Rin’s arm still finds a way to wrap back, encircling Haru with his warmth. Haru thinks he might have imagined the words that follow, released in a nearly soundless flutter to the expectant dusk. “Besides … this is nice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ch.4 prompt was: Home. I hope this does not come across as too OOC, though it was quite fun to write. Any opinions would be greatly appreciated!
> 
> As always, you can also find me on [tumblr](http://www.hal1377.tumblr.com).


	5. Mesh is Best

Sometime during the night they had shuffled closer, rearranging their precise organization of limbs against one another to seek the place each belonged. When Rin had stretched his arm across Haru, he had let him, nudging at Rin to cull him in deeper. They just seemed to fit that way; Haru curling back like a moderately smaller spoon nestled against its neighbor. Rin appeared content too. There were those moments when his fingers would twist into Haru’s t-shirt, tugging gently as though to assure himself of the extra presence at his side. It was only when Haru was certain Rin was fully asleep that he would allow his own hand to return the gesture. Yet he found even more satisfaction in settling his palm on the back of Rin’s hand, occasionally knotting fingers with his in a motion Haru could never pursue in the daylight. 

But Haru wakes to bemoan Rin’s absence, only the idle taint of heat in the covers beside him remains. He tracks an arm through that space, just to make sure. The void Rin left behind is filled by creased blankets and a pillow with three thin crimson hairs caught at its corner. There is a faint smell to them when Haru’s nose stays near. Vestiges of chlorine, sweat, and a faded tinge of scent that is vaguely less masculine. Like shampoo infused with something flowery. Pink petaled blossoms for an athlete with a romantic chunk forcibly buried in his heart.

Haru stretches to stand, eyes searching out the window where a renewed sun has barely begun its rotation. He has never been particularly late to wake; Rin is simply an early riser. Today he yearns for his body to have stirred sooner.

A languid shuffle toward the hall reveals their bags from yesterday, still situated where Rin had dropped them the night prior. The clutter is haphazard, less organized than is typical. There is a glint of gold from Rin’s individual medals at yesterday’s event, their detailed surface hardly visible beneath a scrunched towel. They prod carelessly from within and Haru recognizes their treatment as odd by Rin’s standards, yet pays it perhaps less mind than he should.

Two stifled beeps emerge from the disarray and Haru reaches to find Rin’s phone barely below the surface. Missed texts and messages materialize on the unlocked screen, most from Gou.

**[ Where are you? I wanted to say goodbye before everyone left. ]**

**[ Have you seen Haru? No one can find him. ]**

**[ I know you never answer your texts but you really should this time. ]**

**[ Rin stop making us worry. ]**

**[ Your old coach called. Mom is not happy. ]**

**[ I’m not happy either. ]**

**[ You could have said something! ]**

There are more but Haru stops scrolling, deciding to let Rin deal with it when he returns. Still he taps out a short reply, just in case.

[ We’re fine. ]

Haru is about to put the phone back when Gou’s reply arrives. As though she had been awaiting any kind of response. She probably had.

**[ Well I know that now! ]**

**[ Haru some of this is on you too. ]**

[ But I just said we’re fine. ]

**[ Even you should realize this is kind of crazy. ]**

He does leave the phone at that and moves on, tracing his way through the house in an idle attempt to reacquaint himself with the normalcy he had become accustomed to. One thing is blatantly missing. Rin’s sneakers are gone from the genkan and Haru supposes he must be out for a run. Haru shakes his head, allowing his eyes to slide away from the door, past where his own sneakers still wait. Their fresh skuff marks and dirt evidence of Haru’s newly attempted stint at land based training. He wonders if Rin will have noticed. After all, Rin had detected the difference in Haru’s jammers. Maybe his thoughts are mere longing.

Still, he leaves the possibility to entertain his mind, heading toward the bathroom with the intention of a good soak. Rin will probably be gone a while and Haru knows there is nothing better to rid himself of the grime from their excursion and his confusions. 

Clothes slump easily to the hazy tiles of the bathroom floor. Haru reaches out of habit toward the wall hook where he usually leaves his suit to dry. An abrupt shiver takes hold of his body when he finds an extra set positioned neatly and in a familiar order. He cannot understand how Rin would have known which peg Haru tends to use. Sure the varnish may be slightly more worn than the rest but … _even so_. 

“Lucky guess,” he says, talking more to the miniature dolphin figure situated by the sink than to himself. 

His hand yanks at the jammers, pointedly focused on disregarding the lengthier legskins flung along the adjacent knob. Haru does not want to wonder how it would feel to wear those instead, to think how long it has been since he decided that type of suit was not for him, to consider what Rin would look like in Haru’s own pair, or to ponder those transparent mesh portions that slot into the space on Rin’s inner thighs.

Even as he chides himself to reject that treacherous material, Haru’s fingers crawl to inspect it. They tangle in the shaded red, enjoying the impression and quality of textile. Maybe this would not be so bad, he might even _like_ to try it next time. His hand moves up, dawdling along the edge where two fibers meld in a smooth and indistinguishable seam. That is when some cognizance collides with his perception. A knowledge of what he is touching. Of _where_ his fingers are. Precisely what portion of Rin’s anatomy this belongs with.

Haru snaps back, adjusts his own jammers and tumbles into the tub. He waits there for the water to cool his judgment, to return any sliver of sense. It takes longer than it should.

It could be a hours or minutes later when the doorbell rings. Haru wonders if Rin somehow managed to lock himself out and is halfway from the tub when he recalls that neither of them had locked the door last night. He is still standing there, one foot in and one foot out of the water when the front door slides open and a voice floats in from the hall.

“Haru? Are you home? I can’t image even you’d leave the door unlocked for such a long trip but…” Footsteps follow before the entry to the bathroom opens and Makoto’s friendly smile greets him. “Ah, good morning Haru-chan. Glad to see you’re back.”

“Drop the chan,” Haru mumbles, because that is always how their conversations have to start. Even if his ire over that particular nickname has long since faded to a petty aggravation.

The other foot is pulled from the tub, and Haru takes a towel to dry off. He rubs it in circles around his head, wandering out and toward the kitchen with Makoto in his wake. Haru wonders if Makoto is going to explain why he is here.

“You cannot seriously be curious about what I’m doing here,” Makoto says, his voice probing as Haru listens, only in part, to what he has to say. 

Haru opens the fridge, poking his head in with hope of finding something left from before the trip. It is almost entirely empty, save for a few bottles and cans with distant expiration dates. There is, painfully, no mackerel. Or fish of any kind for that matter. Haru sighs.

So does Makoto. “I did bring you some food, Mom cooked a lot last night because I think she expected you to show up. Or, you know, just in case.”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s really not a big deal,” he is still smiling when he takes a few bundled containers from his bag. “That’s why I’m here. To see what happened last night and to feed you, if you’re hungry.”

Haru huffs a little at that but unwraps the first offered parcel to inspect its contents.

“There’s no mackerel though,” Makoto says. “But I promise it’s still good. And this one,” he adds, holding up a small cube tied with a delicate string, “is a bit of celebratory dessert you missed out on.”

Haru snatches a few things to set atop the kotatsu, turning on the water for tea while he works. “Feel like staying for tea? Or sharing some of this?” He asks. 

“Sure, but I did come here mostly for the story.”

“What story?”

“Haru,” Makoto says, stopping him in his arrangement of the food by placing a hand on his back. “What happened last night? You really had us worried.”

Haru exhales, and it seems more heavy than usual. “There’s not much to tell.”

“Haru…” Makoto’s voice is firm and Haru knows they will be having the full extent of this conversation. He just wishes he had sorted everything out for himself first. But he supposes Makoto does not need to hear all the more baffling details. Haru can keep it to a straightforward catalogue of events.

“I was at the police station,” he says, because that seems to about sum it up.

Makoto’s hand goes slack and Haru guesses he must be content with the information. Haru makes to sit by the kotatsu, taking chopsticks in hand and deciding where to begin. The vegetables seem appealing. 

“You what!?”

Haru looks up, a frown imprinted on his face. He left out all the confusing parts, what had he said that seemed unclear? So he tries again, “I said, last night I was at the police—”

“I heard you but why!?” Makoto’s voice is still a little higher than usual when he comes to sit across from Haru. He rests his chin in his hand, abruptly appearing very tired. “You can’t just say that without an explanation.”

“Well what do you want to know?”

“Maybe start by telling me what happened after you left the meet. We can go from there.”

“Alright.” Haru thinks for a beat then says, “I showered.”

Makoto’s face tells Haru he clearly is not reading his mind on this one. Then he says in a reticent, troubled yet patient voice, “And after that?”

“Rin found me at the lockers.”

“Ah, ok,” he says, as though this slice of information explains a lot more than Haru thinks it actually does.

So Haru continues, “We went swimming.”

Makoto is looking puzzled again. “That … uh, that still doesn’t quite add up.”

Haru thinks. What else could he say? _We talked about the future. Our shared future. That’s weird isn’t it? That I will not be alone. But he also showed me his past. And he was wrong, the sight was just as good as Australia. Everything he has ever given … there is just no explaining it. Then I think I realized I love more than just what we have done together. That I actually love him. And he noticed my swimsuit and we slept together and he is just as good of a cuddler as you would expect. I think he must use some sort of sakura shampoo. There was also one point where I thought about kissing him. And I know I don’t like girls but I was fairly certain I didn’t really like guys either. With him it’s all just so … distinct? Does that even make sense?_

Makoto is still peering at him with exhausted eyes, waiting for something. Haru does not believe any of that is truly what Makoto wants to hear but does not know what else to say. So he takes the dive.

“I like Rin.”

Makoto blinks. Then again. Haru takes a bite of carrot while Makoto processes. He wonders if one of the boxes might have pineapple. A close second since he has been denied mackerel.

“You’re not drinking your tea,” Haru says after a minute passes.

“Haru,” Makoto speaks with the air of a frazzled mother explaining to a wayward toddler that one plus one equals two. “You haven’t told me anything. I think I can see you’re about as ok as you ever are but I’m still concerned. You need to give me more to go on than the fact that you went swimming with Rin and ended up at a police station.”

Haru furrows his brow. “What does that have to do with your tea?”

“You cannot be serious.”

“I am, it’s a legitimate question.”

“Fine, fine.” Makoto holds up a hand and takes a few gulps of the lukewarm liquid. “It’s good, now can you tell me how you went from swimming to being escorted by the police.”

“They showed up, told us to get out of the pool, and then brought us in.” Haru shrugs, “I really don’t know what else there is to tell.” He considers before adding, “I know my liking Rin is confusing but I didn’t think it would throw you off this much.”

“Alright, so you were probably swimming somewhere you shouldn’t have. Though I’d think Rin would keep you out of those kinds of places. Plus it’s the summer so you don’t need to be jumping every fountain you—Wait, what?”

Good, he seems to have caught on.

Makoto nearly tips his teacup in his haste to come around to Haru’s side of the table. His stare locks into Haru’s line of sight and he places both hands on Haru’s knees as though to keep him from escaping, the fresh question taking precedence. “Are you really—do you mean,” he stammers before trying again. “Like as in care for as in more than a friend?”

“Love I think,” Haru says before raising his shoulders and dropping them in a noncommittal sort of gesture. His head turns back toward the food, severing eye contact. “Did you bring any pineapple?”

“Haru!” Makoto jostles him backwards with his hug, too much exuberance in that motion for any steady display of emotion. “I’m so happy for you! I mean, I almost can’t believe it. Oh my goodness! I need to tell Nagisa, I think this means Rei owes him money. Can I tell Nagisa? Is that ok? Wait.” He pulls back, peering at Haru again and practically sitting on him. “Have you even told Rin?”

Haru shakes his head as the front door clicks open.

“Yo Haru! I stopped to get—,” Rin stifles his words when he comes into the main room, a dark-eyed scrutiny washing over where Haru and Makoto are tangled alongside the kotatsu. He switches tracks and Haru does not miss the flit of something. Rejection? Loneliness? That passes across his face. But it is gone in an instant, dispelled when Rin aligns his features with a long-since learned trick.

“Hey Makoto! I should’f known you’d come by. Sorry for stealing Haru last night, and well causing all the trouble. I’m sure the team probably wanted to spend time together. Things just got out of hand.” 

Makoto squeaks when he responds, “It’s ok,” voice shooting up two octaves past normal. “I’m just glad everything worked out in the end.”

Rin’s forehead crinkles and Haru notices him shift a plastic shopping bag behind his back. It’s contents the likely reason for Rin’s run stretching past its usual hour. 

“What’s that?” Haru asks, pointing toward the evidence.

“Oh … I just stopped to grab some soap and stuff. Figured I shouldn’t be using all of your things.” He swings the bag at his side, slouching slightly into the movement and there is almost something defeated about the altered set of his shoulders. “Guess I’m going to shower.” 

He leaves with a slight wave. Yet Haru knows his house well enough to be certain Rin stops in the kitchen first. The fridge door opening and closing in a muted lament.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to write this tomorrow but ended up scraping it together during my lunch break today instead. That means it is probably even more rough than usual but hopefully it will be worth it. 
> 
> The prompt for ch.5 was suppose to be bonding, even though it kind of went in a different direction.
> 
> [Tumblr](http://www.hal1377.tumblr.com)


	6. The Gift of Mackerel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have been following the fic until this point you may have noticed the final chapter count has been updated from 8 to 11. Hopefully you will not mind but it seemed a little expansion would help the story along with one additional bonus chapter to fully wrap things up. When we get there I will be bumping the rating to M but if you would prefer to tap out at chapter 10 the narrative will have ended in a comfortable place. So do not worry!

“Rin, just put on the shirt.”

“No.”

“Don’t be so irritating.”

“Come on, you must have something else I could borrow.”

“… No.” Haru answers after a pause, uncrossing his arms and adjusting away from the wall where he had been leaning for the past few minutes. He thinks he hears Rin grumble again from the bathroom but does not bother to reply this time. If he waits long enough, Haru knows Rin will come around.

He ambles toward the hall, intending to find some distraction. There is no schoolwork to be completed, he had eaten, spent his time in the tub, and is now thoroughly out of anything worthwhile to do. Somehow it is difficult to recall how he usually occupies himself. Where did those solitary hours go? It seems odd to be this out of sorts in his own house and Haru cannot quite place exactly what had made him feel as such. Maybe it should have been more obvious. Even as he tries to disregard the confirmation. Because what was there to be done about the flames licking beneath his skin or the thoughts that drifted too comfortably near his longtime friend and rival? No. It was best to maintain a façade for himself; a vigilantly fabricated sham that things were always as they had been. Nothing more.

There are still the dishes left in the sink from breakfast, Haru could cleanse his disquiet with a bit of scrubbing and soapy water. Yet he maintains an urge to idle nearby. Stockinged feet slip across his bedroom threshold in search of an undisturbed space for introspection. Haru tells himself it is mere convenient placement and planning for when Rin finally does make his appearance. He is interested in the chance to tease Rin again and that is all, the single reason to remain close to the adjacent bathroom. Just to satiate the requisite banter between them. Should his inclination toward provoking Rin result in an arm slung across his shoulder, a passionately pitched voice, the fierce flush across a face, or the ardent challenge to any competition then it would be an apt side effect. 

Situating himself on his desk chair, Haru taps a finger on the tabletop and muses out the window. Light filtering inward leaves the curtains unshadowed and sets the rooftops beyond into a gleaming blaze. Each home grows luminous when that carmine color catches at the cleft of a shingle, the wooden slats of a patient door, or the flora thriving in tidy gardens. Haru wonders how a tepid tinge of red can leave such a beautiful, burning influence. He can see all the minute houses below, most with their windows open to tempt in a nonexistent breeze, all apparently unaware of the sight offered in their midst. A distant ocean emerges as no more than a blue smear near the top of the image, dyeing the horizon with its wash of sea foam. 

It is difficult to glance away, to find a section of the view unadorned by the overwhelming sheen. A slight way down the hill Makoto’s blinds are drawn, their deep green presenting a perfect square with a hint of light brushed around its edges. Despite Haru’s admission to him, Haru feels little different. Though a change had not exactly been expected. He had lived with the knowledge of his fixation for long enough to have identified it as some acutely solidified portion of his persona. He did not mind, even if it was troublesome to ignore. Rin had simply always been that way.

Someone crosses the steps below and a stray cat yowls lightly at the passerby. They are modest elements but ones Haru has come to recognize as home. He wonders what he will find in Tokyo. More people and more buildings to be sure. But less open sky. Less ocean. Less freedom?

No. He shakes his head, scattering the distasteful lingerings. Haru knows what Rin would say. That it is freedom of a different kind. With more opportunities, more adventure, more chances all wrapped up in that persistent pull to lead you somewhere better. To a new home. To something distinctly bright.

Haru pulls a sketchpad from its regular spot along his shelf, turning to a clean page somewhere in the middle. Thin strokes sketch out his view with skilled precision. The image emerges swiftly despite the fact that Haru cannot remember the last time he bothered with an etching. He tended to be too inspired by other subjects but now would be a good time to cement this particular memory. There are plenty of other pages devoted to water in its varying states. Capped bottles of the transparent liquid, summer pools, pristine baths, occasional ponds, and the ocean always seem to make their appearance.

His friends show up too, faces blending in an out of the paper at irregular interludes. They tend to materialize in conjunction with his first fascination. Swimming. They laugh along the sand, align atop a starting block, or peer over Gou’s shoulder when she hands out a new training regime. Each slots onto the page but never overwhelms it. Never marks it as their own.

Of course there is one who sticks out. Haru has already begun to carve the curve of his nose into a scene where he does not exist in reality. His face is directed toward the glass of Haru’s bedroom window, a wavy reflection blotted into place with the charcoal on Haru’s thumb. He takes more care with the portrait than the background where Rin’s details piece themselves together in a defined replica suggesting years of study. An imagined image of what he would look like inhabiting Haru’s own space. It need not be noted that Rin takes up more pages than the rest.

“This is just cruel,” Rin steps into the room wearing one of Haru’s t-shirts and looking down. It is slightly too tight, stretched across the muscles of his torso and lifting just a fraction around his waist when he moves. Cartoonish depictions of a sea monster wade across the shirt’s front and Haru’s eyes warm at the display. Rin is holding a bundle of clothes, the outfit he had donned for the past day and a half, folded in neat rectangles. Jacket stacked on top of his sweatpants. “I could just …”

“Rin you can’t put the other stuff back on, it’s dirty.” Haru slides his sketches to the corner of his desk, flipping them over in as discreet a movement as he can manage. Rin appears too involved in his own thoughts to pay the action much mind.

Haru stands, crossing over to Rin and taking the pile from him. He is not particularly gentle, still mildly frustrated by Rin’s stubborn tendencies but softens when he gets a more intimate view of Rin’s face. It is almost embarrassed.

“I’ll put these in the wash and … Rin?” 

“Hmm?” Rin still appears distracted but tunes back in slightly when Haru stops to stand in front of him.

“You really don’t have to wear that if you don’t want to.” He gestures toward his closet, “You can borrow—”

“No! I’m going to fucking wear it ok?!” Rin turns to hasten from the room, practically dashing toward the kitchen. He calls over his shoulder, “I–I’m just hungry.”

Haru likes the way his pants are also a little too tight on Rin. His eyes trek upward, noticing how Rin’s calves tug at the seams just enough to bring out noticeable arcs in the contours of denim. The trajectory of his legs blends into a long swell of strong thighs that does nothing to mitigate the strain of Haru’s loaned jeans. There is something too in the fill of Rin’s narrow hips and where the pockets sweep over his ass. 

Haru swallows. His mind slower than his eyes to register the rest of Rin’s figure and he takes the remaining time in that ephemeral moment to scrutinize the fit of his tee once more. Short sleeves showcase the ivory of flawless biceps in a span of cotton seemingly made to accentuate the breadth of Rin’s shoulders before bowing to a taut waist. That ribbon of skin bares itself in the space between pants and top. Haru is certain if he were to run a hand down the front of the shirt his fingers could catch on every chink of muscle blossoming over Rin’s abdomen. That he could dawdle on that stripe of stomach. Tug the cloth a tad higher. 

He understands why he had never sanctioned himself to regard Rin like this before. There is too much risk.

In the final gratifying movement of Rin’s partial jog down the hall Haru perceives a hint of blue. Rin’s foot kicks around the corner when Haru identifies a slight cuff in Rin’s pants and the plaited anklet he wears underneath. It is the one thing about him that does not look particularly clean. Russet tinges hint to slight dirt forever embedded in the fibers of a well-loved object, hardly removed. _Does he ever take the thing off?_

Once the clothes have been dumped in the wash Haru deems he has had enough time to assemble the scattered pieces of his conscious. He finds Rin scouring the dishes but he glances up when Haru returns. A sly smile and sharp eyebrow is all it takes to send Haru over the edge again. _Well, this is inconvenient._

“Thanks,” Rin says, turning back to his work.

“You don’t have to do that,” Haru responds, padding closer. “I thought you were hungry. Aren’t you going to eat something?”

“Mmm, in a minute. I can’t do much to make it up to you but,” he waves an empty hand, “at least this is something. Besides, it’s kind of calming, you know?”

Haru does know, but an out of place scent garners his attention instead. He stands close enough to Rin’s back that he can smell the trace of a fresh shower. The soap or shampoo or both is different from this morning. He leans closer to be sure.

Rin jerks back, startled though not quite harsh. “Are you sniffing me?” Rin raises his own arm, as if checking for some odor. “I mean I _just_ showered. It should be fine.”

“Just different,” Haru says. And then it registers. “That’s _my_ shampoo.”

“It isn’t! I just … uh,” there is a short break before Rin decides what to say, “got some new stuff this morning. Remember, I told you when I came back.”

“You used my shampoo.”

“I didn’t!”

“Rin I can _smell_ it. I know what the essential oils smells like, I’ve been using it for years.”

“Well maybe I just happened to buy the same stuff.”

Haru shakes his head. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not _doing_ anything! You’re the one that’s being weird!”

The confrontation breaks when Haru makes to open the fridge. “Gou called.”

“Yeah,” Rin barely latches into the change in conversation. “I texted her when I got back from my run. Said I’ll stop by later.” He watches Haru before adding, “What are you doing?”

“You’ll be less grumpy if you eat something. Some of what Makoto brought was pretty good,” Haru says, taking out boxes at random until he reaches the back of the fridge. “With Makoto there is probably some kind of …” He trails off, frozen in his actions, surprise lifting his cheeks.

“Thank you.”

“Hmm?” Rin ganders over from the sink, and Haru can visibly see the second Rin knows he has been caught. The way his frame stiffens and his hands hold too tightly to the plate obscured in bubbles. The words that follow are stilted, wary. “What are you talking about?”

“Mackerel,” Haru says without flourish.

There is definitely a light tinge to Rin’s ears now, blushing with his nerves. Haru only waits, endeavoring to catch his eye. But Rin is not cooperating. When does he ever? 

“Well I figured we’d get hungry and there wouldn’t be much left in the house.” Rin starts to rub his hand around the back of his neck but also tries to shrug at the same time, as though to say it was not a big deal. But it is all too forced to be natural, movements clashing into more of a jitter than anything else.

“Since when do you eat mackerel? And there’s even pineapple too,” he adds, pulling out a can to inspect the label. 

“Hey! It’s not that I dislike it, you just eat the stuff too damn much.” He slams down the plate and tramps toward a cupboard, beginning to put away clean mugs and cutlery. Haru can see the back of Rin’s neck is a smidge red too.

Maybe he is pushing his luck, trying to bring Rin into the fold of his feelings without enough consideration. But Haru is too tingly to allow his doubts any corner. “Did you want to have some with me?”

“I, uh,” Rin stammers, his neck scorching with a rare bashful hesitation. He recovers himself quickly. “Alright you caught me, I confess. I’ve been harboring a secret love for mackerel all my life.” He mocks putting his hands in the air as though with some lame stab at a joke. Soap and water drips down his arm.

Haru frowns. A much used habit of late. The undertone in Rin’s anger lingers as more than show and Haru cannot quite discern why. He ponders. Rin never bought soap or shampoo though he professed to have needed them. Instead his truth now sits in Haru’s hands, two items purchased. As a gift? A statement? There was something else though. Another piece Haru had misplaced. 

Rin goes back to the sink. “You don’t have to humor me,” he says, voice gone soft. Attention deliberately focused on his occupied hands. It seems he is not going to continue and Haru wonders if Rin astounds himself when he does. “Just thought it might be nice … to um … you know …” He lets the sentence dissipate, then, “share.”

_Oh._

_It was a gift for me. The offer of a calm interlude for us. Was that all Rin had wanted from their past frenzied day?_ Yet what was offered had been unintentionally rejected by its recipient.

The phone rings and Rin picks it up, handing it to Haru where he still stands next to the open refrigerator door. Nagisa is on the other end.

“Haru-chan! I can’t believe you answered!” Nagisa’s voice is loud and eager and everything that clashes with Haru’s current state. 

“Yeah.”

“Good because we need you tonight! Rei and I have agreed that since we couldn't all celebrate yesterday we’ll have to make up for it. And I’m pretty excited to make sure Rei knows just how thoroughly I won!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh never mind, you’ll see, you’ll see. It’s all part of the fun isn’t it?” Haru disagrees, vaguely wondering if this has something to do with the bet Makoto had mentioned. He decides it does not matter.

“Ok.”

“Rin’s still with you isn’t he?” Nagisa says, switching the conversation with exuberant ease. “You have to make him come with you too. We’ll meet at eight, you know that bar and restaurant down the road from Rei’s house?”

“Uh, I don’t think so?” Haru looks over to where Rin is finishing with the dishes, granting Haru scant scraps of his attention. “And I doubt I can convince Rin to come. He’s going to visit his family I think.”

“I know you know the restaurant, it has the fish tank out front! And of course he’s coming! Rin can see his family after. Hang on a second.” The line holds static until Nagisa returns an instant later. “Put him on.”

Haru stretches his arm wordlessly toward Rin, who takes it with a perturbed expression. “Hello?”

Hearing only half of the conversation is not unusual, Haru is used to tuning in at irregular interims whether the words come from a phone or the group of friends positioned at his sides.

Rin is shaking his head now, even if Nagisa cannot see. “No, it’s alright. I really should get back early.” There is a lengthy gap and then “What!?” Rin’s face colors furiously before he is saying, “Ok. Ok.” And then, “I said _ok_!” He pounds the phone down, turning it off and not looking at Haru.

Makoto arrives fifteen minutes later, begging an agitated Rin from the doorway. Even though he is the smaller of the two, Rin’s sturdy stance and irate eyes effectively flatten Makoto’s solicitations.

“ _Please_ , Nagisa said I can't show up tonight without both of you.” Makoto’s voice sounds sincerely troubled when Haru steps in.

“We’ll be there.”

“We will?” 

Haru is not even sure he can tell which of Rin’s emotions are succeeding in the struggle for supremacy. So he nods, because if he does Rin will agree. And that is precisely what happens.

“Y–yeah. Alright. We will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all remember the Rin figure with the blue anklet? Because I sure do.
> 
> [Tumblr](http://www.hal1377.tumblr.com)


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